


Uphill slide

by shittershutter



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:38:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3715318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittershutter/pseuds/shittershutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chibs looks down at himself, and it’s painfully obvious that whenever he sees himself naked now, he’ll think about amusement family parks for the rest of his life. Laughing children, age-appropriate music, bubbles and mascot animals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uphill slide

**Author's Note:**

> ** Hey, look, people are actually having fun in my writing. Nobody's crying, even. 
> 
> ** Unbetad

He doesn’t want to deny Juice the experience, once he’s asked so nicely. The man's been denied a lot of good things, most of which won’t be offered ever again, after all. 

So he follows him into the place where both music and the lights are too synthetic for his taste and tries to project the hell out of excitement or reasonable interest at least. And as the darkness of the dance floor swallows them, he doesn’t flinch when Juice’s fingers close around his. 

“If you ever get in the mood to dump your pregnant grandpa boyfriend, gimme a call,” a man shouts into Juice’s face twenty minutes later, pushing a cramped piece of paper under the collar of his hoodie, and his voice is much louder than the song requires. 

The speed of Juice’s reaction is fucking superhuman as he catches Chibs mid-jump when he goes for the stranger. 

“Ten minutes, babe. Please? Ten more minutes.”

Chibs flops back to the couch under the pleading stare, even though it’s against every coping mechanism and reaction shortcut he operates under. The things he’s willing to do to make his man smile… 

Juice beams and wraps himself around him again for hundreds of people to see. 

Chibs slides his hand between the beanie he has on and the sweaty shaved skin, scratching and rubbing at it the way Juice likes. The man melts against him, curls around his ribcage and laces their fingers together. They sit like this amidst the chaos of moving bodies, and before their ten minutes are up, Chibs brings their knuckles to his mouth, kissing along the skin.

Then he gets up, puts his leather gloves on and goes to look for the fucker to deliver a quick and sufficient beat down, grandpa-style. 

“Does it bother you?” he asks afterwards, when they walk to their hotel with wailing sirens fading on the background. “This,” he clarifies, pointing at himself, finger circling around the midsection. 

“Your 30 years worth of Irish beer supply?” Juice sounds dead serious. 

Chibs raises an eyebrow at him before he gets a kick in the stomach. “Relax, old man. Makes it easier to rub my dick against it when I ride you. I like to call it my “uphill slide”, Juice whispers the last part dramatically right into his ear before descending into a fit of drunk giggles. 

“Oh dear Christ”. Chibs looks down at himself, and it’s painfully obvious that whenever he sees himself naked now, he’ll think about amusement family parks for the rest of his life. Laughing children, age-appropriate music, bubbles and mascot animals. The life of an outlaw is a short one, but still it’ll take a while. 

He then takes Juice to their fancy hotel bed and fucks him like he deserves. 

He wrestles Juice’s bent knees to the side, twisting his torso, so he gets the notion that no uphill sliding is happening tonight. His dick is squeezed firmly between his thighs, but it’s still good. 

Juice likes it softer, Chibs notices through the years, but he gets in the mood sometimes when they fight each other down, teeth and nails and snarling laughter, and it’s good as well. 

“It was sort of a… ahah… compliment, just to be clear,” Juice rasps, rubbing his hand up and down Chibs’ bicep and taking it hard and deep. His fingers tremble a little when he gets to Chibs’ face, tracing the scars, and Chibs nibbles at those fingers to stop himself from blurting out something they don’t say to each other, even on their normal days like this. 

“Make me come, I wanna come so bad...” Juice whispers, that stuff they don’t talk about dangling on the very tip of his tongue, as well. It’s so painfully obvious that Chibs makes an anguished sound and presses his full weight against the man to kiss him hard, to bruise his well-fucked mouth more than it already is. 

He reaches blindly, touching the shaved skin -- Juice shaves obsessively, showers and cleans himself a lot. Chibs is not sure a first whether he should be offended that the man doesn’t want his smell on him, but then he learns to see it for what it is: just one of his many little ticks. He closes his hand around the hard dick and strokes it smoothly with sweat and lube easing the movement. 

It takes longer than it would, awkward angle and the emotional part of it they both cling to, and then Juice’s breath hitches and he comes, his quivering flesh dragging Chibs over the edge. 

“Thanks for tonight,” Juice says some time later, when their sweat dries off and the bottle of champagne they steal from the reception desk is finished. “Felt nice to be normal for a change. Until you got all weird about the beer gut.”

“Isn’t it a thing normal people get weird about, though?”

Juice cackles loudly, voice light with champagne bubbles. 

“True that.” He puts his hand on Chibs’ chest, right where his heart beats from down under, and slowly slides it down his stomach, keeping it there. He waits, and Chibs follows, covering the hand with his own, his knuckles ache where they banged against the club fucker’s ribs, but Juice’s hand is hot -- it melts the pain away.


End file.
